


threat: low (tachycardic)

by saltytangerine



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Barnes Recovering, Established Relationship, Fluff, Implied Relationships, M/M, Modern Era, Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:20:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21716788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltytangerine/pseuds/saltytangerine
Summary: Upon awakening, the dreams are gone, the fear only lingering bitterly in the air and the thread count of the pillowcase is close to worryingly indulgent against his cheek and memory foam? He may never leave his bed, never stand upright ever again. His arm is almost silent; he sleeps on his left side out of habit, to keep it hidden under him, but in the cold winters of Bucharest, what little warmth he found on his mattress on the floor, and under the thin sleeping bag, was found from the constant workings of his arm.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Sam Wilson
Comments: 6
Kudos: 34





	threat: low (tachycardic)

Heart Rate: 143bpm

Respiratory Rate: 30bpm

Threat: Calculating

When his mind runs away, it’s almost comforting to think of himself as a machine, an asset-- temporarily relinquishing control to a higher power. Anxiety bubbles underneath the surface day in and day out, and the therapy and coping mechanisms that his friends have tried to enforce help until he dreams. His dreams are rarely kind, but Bucky's head rests on the pillow, his hair is the shortest it's been this century and out of muscle memory, he tried to coax the front into waving close to his head like he would do back in the 1940s. Upon awakening, the dreams are gone, fear only lingering bitterly in the air and the thread count of the pillowcase is close to worryingly indulgent against his cheek and  _ memory foam _ ? He may never leave his bed, never stand upright ever again. His arm is almost silent; he sleeps on his left side out of habit, to keep it hidden under him, but in the cold winters of Bucharest, what little warmth he found on his mattress on the floor, and under the thin sleeping bag, was found from the constant workings of his arm. 

He tugs at the metal arm and although the touch is always surprising to him, he never flinches. His arm is sensitive and after just one touch the tactile sensors identify the person that the grip belongs to and like lights going off behind his eyes, he sees the name "Samuel Wilson" in his mind. Although the vibranium cannot detect temperature, the rest of him can and the leg that is between his own is warm and he can feel a draught from where the blankets are pulled to his left, his right knee bearing the full brunt of an air conditioned bedroom in April. 

Bucky Barnes is over 100 years old and he finds comfort in a body beside him in bed. He turns to face the blanket thief and although their room is dark, black out blinds and no nightlight to be seen, he can see the faintest outline of a sleeping man with high cheekbones and a sharp jaw. He doesn’t thank the serum for much, for years it felt like a curse, to awaken anew and alone, but now he wakes anew and  _ with someone _ , and now, with the serum, he can see Sam in the darkness and he can hear the softest of breaths he lets out while dreaming. 

If there was an option, he would only touch him with his right hand. Sam runs warm, like he used to, he feels soft, but hard, when Bucky’s hand is under his shirt, like he used to feel, and when his fingers close around his palm, his heart thuds loudly in his ears. 

Anxiety is not welcome here, not when Sam Wilson sleeps with socks on and Bucky Barnes sleeps for the first time in decades with the promise of _ Threat: Low  _ whispering him to sleep. 


End file.
